Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMC9881P3S5ACKWB980QVX

Rory's heart leapt into her throat the moment she saw Lucien Moreau standing in the doorway of Eva's cramped flat. She froze, fingers still gripping the doorknob, as his mismatched eyes swept over her, taking in every detail. A beat passed. Then another. The air between them crackled with the weight of history — the attraction, the hurt, the things left unsaid. "Rory." Lucien's voice was low, tinged with a faint French accent. A small, wry smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I wasn't expecting to find you here." Rory swallowed hard, pulse pounding in her ears. "What are you doing here, Luc?" His gaze sharpened. "I could ask you the same thing." Reaching into the inner pocket of his tailored charcoal suit, he produced a folded piece of paper. "I received an...urgent message. Asking me to come." Rory's brow furrowed as she recognized Eva's tidy script. Of course. She should have known her friend was behind this. "Well, you can tell Eva that I'm fine," Rory said, tone clipped. "There's no need for you to be here." Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is that so?" He leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne wafting over her. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't look fine at all." Rory flinched, and in that moment, the carefully constructed mask she wore slipped just enough for Lucien to glimpse the turmoil beneath. He'd always had a way of seeing right through her. With a sigh, Rory stepped back, opening the door wider. "Come in, then. I suppose we have some things to discuss." Lucien inclined his head, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips as he stepped over the threshold. His gaze swept the cramped space, taking in the scattered books and notes, the sleeping tabby cat curled up on the sofa. Rory closed the door behind him, the click of the deadbolts sealing them in. For a long moment, they stood there in charged silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. "So," Lucien said at last, breaking the stillness. "What's going on, Rory?" Rory worried her lower lip, gaze trained on the floor. "It's...complicated." She glanced up, meeting his mismatched eyes. "I'm in over my head, Luc. I need your help." Lucien arched a brow, expression unreadable. "Is that so?" He reached into his suit jacket again, producing a slim silver cigarette case. Flipping it open, he extracted a thin, expertly rolled cigarette and brought it to his lips. "And why should I help you, hmm?" he murmured around it, striking a match and taking a slow, deliberate drag. Rory's eyes narrowed. "Because you owe me." The words were soft, but there was an edge of steel beneath them. Lucien exhaled a plume of smoke, eyes never leaving hers. "I see." He took another drag, contemplative. "Very well, then. What is it you need?" Relief flooded through Rory, though she tried to hide it. "It's...Eva. She's gotten herself involved with something dangerous." She chewed on her lip, gaze darting away. "I'm worried about her." Lucien nodded slowly, taking another pull from his cigarette. "I see." He took a step closer, and Rory fought the urge to take a step back. "And what, exactly, has our dear Eva gotten herself into?" Rory hesitated, gaze flicking toward the door. "I'm not entirely sure. But I think it has to do with the...supernatural side of things." She shot him a pointed look. "You know, the kind of thing you specialize in." Lucien's eyes glinted with amusement. "Ah, I see." He took another drag, the cigarette glowing in the dimly lit flat. "And you think I can help." "I know you can," Rory said quietly. "You have connections, resources...things I don't." Lucien hummed, tilting his head to one side. "And what do I get in return, hmm?" Rory's stomach twisted. She should have known there would be a price. "What do you want?" A slow, predatory smile spread across Lucien's face. "Oh, I think you know what I want, Rory." His gaze dropped to her lips, then slowly traveled back up to meet her eyes. Rory swallowed hard, heart pounding. The air crackled with tension, thick and heavy. She could feel the weight of their history pressing in, the unresolved feelings that still lingered between them. Slowly, Lucien reached out, fingers brushing the small crescent-shaped scar on her wrist. "I want you," he murmured, voice low and rough. Rory's breath caught in her throat at his touch, the familiar spark of electricity it ignited within her. She hated how her body responded to him, how he could still make her feel this way. "Luc..." she breathed, barely above a whisper. "Say yes, Rory," Lucien murmured, his thumb caressing the delicate skin of her wrist. "Say yes, and I'll help you save your friend." Rory's mind raced, weighing the options. She knew she was in over her head, that she needed Lucien's connections and expertise. And deep down, a part of her still ached for him, still craved his touch. With a shaky exhale, she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. "Alright," she murmured. "Yes." A triumphant smile spread across Lucien's face, and he pulled her close, one hand cupping her cheek. "That's my girl," he purred, and then his lips were on hers, hungry and demanding. Rory melted into the kiss, years of pent-up desire rushing to the surface. She clutched at the lapels of his suit, pulling him closer, losing herself in the familiar taste and feel of him. For now, the rest of the world fell away, and all that mattered was this moment, this connection. Everything else could wait.